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by fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)



Series: Control Group [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity
Summary: Cloud almost didn’t want to tell them about Luca - didn’t want to disrupt their easy joy, their lives that had finally settled into something nice. But there was no choice. If Cloud stayed, so did Luca, and Cloud wasn’t going to leave the kids and Tifa behind again. Not if he could help it.Cloud and Luca arrive at the Seventh Heaven, and Cloud introduces the boy to his family.
Series: Control Group [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998373
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58





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**Author's Note:**

> This is the series' longest fic yet, and it took me ages to figure out. Denzel's reaction especially was difficult - I want to give a huge shoutout to my beta [ageofzero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ageofzero) for helping me work through the knots! But it's finally done, and I get to show off the amazing art [breezy-cheezy](https://breezy-cheezy.tumblr.com/post/641892427254333440/commission-for-fallintosanity-an-absolutely) did of Cloud and Luca. <3

It was after three in the morning when Cloud finally turned Fenrir onto the main boulevard running through the heart of Edge. Any other day, he would have stopped well before this to find an inn or at least a friendly settlement to spend the night, but Luca was sound asleep in his sling, and the Seventh Heaven usually stayed open long past midnight. Tifa would be awake still, and Cloud could introduce her to Luca without anyone else around. 

He’d told her weeks ago that he was bringing another orphan home, but he… hadn’t ever quite managed to explain who Luca really was. He told himself it wasn’t a conversation they should have over an open phone line, that the Turks might be monitoring his phone or the bar’s or both, but those excuses wouldn’t fly with Tifa. She was going to be furious at him. 

Fenrir’s roar cut like a blade through the city’s nighttime quiet, and Cloud killed the engine when he was still several blocks out from the bar. Momentum carried them a few hundred feet before the bike drifted to a gentle halt. Luca stirred, but didn’t wake - he’d long since learned to sleep on the bike, held safely in place against Cloud’s chest by a makeshift sling fashioned from one of Imogen’s old blankets. The sling only worked while Cloud was sitting on the bike, though, so he unwrapped the fabric from his chest and lifted the boy in one arm before dismounting. Luca slumped bonelessly against Cloud’s shoulder, his face tucked into the hollow of Cloud’s neck. The only sign he was a living, breathing toddler rather than a doll was the way his tiny hand clutched the strap of Cloud’s sword harness. 

With his free arm, Cloud steered the bike down the quiet streets toward the Seventh Heaven. His attempt at stealth wasn’t entirely successful: Tifa stood on the bar’s doorstep, peering through the nighttime shadows. She was wearing a plaid long-sleeved shirt tied at her ribs, and knee-length shorts under a miniskirt, the only concessions she ever made to the chilly winter weather. She jumped and waved when she spotted him; Cloud let go of Fenrir long enough for a quick wave back.

“Hey!” Tifa called as he got closer, her voice pitched low to not wake the entire street. “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.” 

Cloud shrugged the shoulder Luca wasn’t sleeping against. “We were almost here anyway.” 

“And you wanted to sleep in your own bed, I bet,” Tifa said, gently teasing. She leaned close, peering at Luca. “Is this your new kid?” 

Cloud grunted. “His name’s Luca.” 

Luca stirred at the sound of his name, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes - and Tifa went absolutely rigid. Cloud had known he wouldn’t be able to get the truth past her, but he still found himself fighting to stand steady under her narrow-eyed glare. Her fists clenched, hard enough that her knuckles went white. 

“Cloud,” she said flatly. She looked like she was ready to murder Luca on the spot. 

“He’s _three_ ,” Cloud said. 

Her eyes flickered as she did the math in her head. “Hojo must have created him, what, right before Meteor…”

He almost wanted to let her believe it. The truth wasn’t any less crazy, and as long as he was careful, he could probably keep Luca from saying anything that didn’t add up. But after Geostigma, he’d promised not to hide things from her anymore. He didn’t want to break that promise the first time it came to the test. “...About thirty years ago, actually.” 

She frowned. “What?” 

“Long story,” Cloud said, and jerked his head for her to follow him around the side of the bar. She jogged a few steps ahead of him automatically as he steered the bike around to the shed along the side of the building, pulling her keys out of a pocket and unlocking the shed door. As Cloud got the bike stowed, he gave her the rundown of what had happened in the Nibel mountains: the dragon that had ambushed him, knocking him off his bike into the mako fountain. The disorientation of the Lifestream, and of surfacing in the past. Feeling the tug of time against his ribs, like a rubber band stretching tighter and tighter the longer he was there. His rampage through the Shinra mansion, killing Hojo and setting the building and its cursed secrets ablaze. Finding the boy hiding in a closet, terrified and vulnerable and, ultimately, innocent. 

“He’s a kid,” Cloud said softly. They’d stayed in the shed while he talked, and Tifa leaned against Fenrir’s seat while Cloud paced. With the hand not holding Luca, he rubbed gentle circles on the boy’s back to keep him asleep. “A baby. I couldn’t—” 

“Yeah.” Tifa ran her hands over her face tiredly. “I know you wouldn’t. Not even… not even _him._ ” 

Cloud didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he just said, “I snapped back to the present right after grabbing him. The mansion’s still there, just like it used to be. And everything is…” He trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely to indicate Edge, and the Sephiroth-inflicted calamity that had caused it. “So I don’t know what it means that he’s here, now.” 

“I don’t know, either,” Tifa admitted. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“...are you going to let us stay?” 

Tifa’s eyes snapped up to Cloud’s. She’d heard what he wasn’t saying - that if she refused to allow Luca to stay, Cloud wouldn’t, either. It wasn’t fair to her, and Cloud knew it - but it was too dangerous to leave the boy with anyone else in the world. She stared at him for a long time, and he knew her well enough to recognize the struggle she was going through. Or maybe it was just that Cloud had gone through that same struggle himself, two months ago when he’d found himself in the Nibel mountains with a traumatized toddler version of the man who had nearly destroyed the world. 

Finally Tifa sighed and looked away, scuffing the toe of her sneaker on the dirt floor of the shed. “You’re going to need to figure out how to tell Denzel.” 

Cloud grunted assent. Denzel was going to be nearly as difficult to convince as Tifa, maybe even more so. Tifa was mature enough to understand the full implications of Luca’s presence here, and while Marlene had been kidnapped by the Remnants, they hadn’t hurt her. Cloud had rescued her quickly enough that she seemed to look back on the whole thing with more annoyance than fear. Denzel, though, still woke up from nightmares of being puppeted by men with silver hair and slit-pupiled green eyes. 

“I’ll figure something out,” Cloud said. 

Tifa nodded once, then stood up from the bike and headed out of the shed, back around to the bar’s front door. “Come on,” she said. “You’ve got to be exhausted.” 

Cloud followed, locking the shed behind him. Tifa was right, he was exhausted - he’d get the rest of his stuff in the morning. 

She’d already closed down the bar, but the row of dim lights above the counter still cast a soft glow over the room. As Cloud headed for the door to the stairs, Luca sat up suddenly, blinking against the lights. From the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Tifa tense at the boy’s movement, then visibly force herself to relax. 

Thankfully, Luca hadn’t noticed her yet, leaning back and squinting up at Cloud. “Is this a sleeping place?” he asked, his baby-soft voice more slurred than usual with drowsiness.

“Yes,” Cloud said. “We’re home.” 

“Home,” Luca echoed. He turned in Cloud’s arms, peering around the bar curiously. Then he spotted Tifa and went very still. 

“This is Tifa,” Cloud said gently. “She’s my friend. Can you say hi?” 

Luca squirmed, then dived against Cloud’s shoulder, burying his face like he was trying to burrow in. 

“He’s shy,” Cloud said to Tifa.

“I see that.” Her voice was dry, her expression bemused. 

Luca wriggled a bit; his head was still tucked under Cloud’s chin but from the way Tifa’s gaze went to the boy, he must have twisted to look at her. “Hi,” Luca said, then immediately buried his face against Cloud’s shoulder again. 

Tifa’s expression did something complicated before settling into the melancholy that usually meant she was thinking about something sad. “I didn’t… I didn’t expect him to be _cute._ ” 

“Me neither,” Cloud admitted. “The name helps.” 

“Yeah,” Tifa agreed. 

As Tifa kept standing there not doing anything scary, Luca slowly relaxed against Cloud. Without lifting his head, he mumbled something which weeks of practice let Cloud translate. 

“Yes,” Cloud told him. “We can make pancakes tomorrow.” 

“With strawberries?” Luca asked, excitement making the words clearer.

“We have strawberries,” Tifa offered. “And whipped cream.” 

“I’ll help,” Luca said, and squirmed like he was trying to climb down from Cloud’s arms and find a kitchen right that instant.

Cloud tightened his grip. “We need to sleep first,” he told the boy.

“I slept!” Luca protested. 

Cloud chuckled, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Tifa trying to hide a smile of her own. He told Luca, “You need to sleep more, and Tifa and I haven’t slept at all yet.” 

“Okay,” Luca said, and yawned. “Sleep, then pancakes.” 

“Right,” Tifa said, and this time didn’t bother hiding her smile. She shook herself and turned toward the stairs to the apartment above the bar. Luca was already starting to droop again, so Cloud adjusted his hold, settling him more securely in his arms, then followed her up. Her voice pitched to a low whisper to avoid waking Denzel and Marlene, Tifa said, “I got the trundle bed a couple of days ago and set it up when I was getting your room ready, so you’re good to go.” 

“Thanks,” Cloud whispered back. 

Tifa pushed open the door to Cloud’s room, flashing him a quick smile as he passed her before closing the door behind them. “Goodnight,” she called. 

“Night,” Cloud answered. 

After nearly three months on the road, it was good to be home, in his own room again. In the wake of Geostigma, Cloud tried not to be gone so long anymore, but delivery runs all the way out to the western edge of the West Continent were always long, even if he hadn’t gotten his bike smashed by a rampaging Nibel dragon and had to spend most of a month waiting for replacement parts. 

As Tifa had promised, a neat little trundle bed sat on the floor beside Cloud’s own bed. It was meant for really little kids - even Marlene would barely fit in it - but it would be fine for Luca for a while. Long enough for Cloud and Barret to build the extension to the bar they’d been talking about, adding a couple of extra bedrooms and another bathroom. Denzel and Marlene were getting too old to share a room, and it would be nice for Barret, those rare times he visited Edge, to have someplace to sleep which wasn’t on the floor of either Cloud or Tifa’s room. 

Luca was out cold again, and barely stirred as Cloud tucked him into the trundle bed. With the boy settled, Cloud only stayed awake long enough to shuck his boots and leather outers, then collapsed into bed himself and fell asleep immediately. 

* * *

“Cloooud. Cloud. Cloud. Cloooooooooooud.” 

Little hands wiggled his arm.

“Clouuuuuud,” Luca said again. “Wake up.” 

Cloud yawned and forced his eyes open. Luca knelt beside him, facing toward his feet as he shook Cloud’s arm. The boy had learned very quickly not to lean over Cloud or stand at the edge of the bed to wake him, and had taken to prodding him with his back turned. As a means to wake Cloud up, it was effective. As a way to not have them both start their day terrified, it… worked well enough.

Despite having his back to Cloud, the boy had a sixth sense for when Cloud had opened his eyes, because he knew exactly when it was safe for him to turn around and flop onto Cloud’s chest. “Pancakes,” he demanded. 

Cloud couldn’t help a chuckle. “Is it morning?” 

Luca pointed at the window, where sunlight streamed past the drawn curtains. “Someone’s outside,” he added, and turned to point at the bedroom door. 

Cloud lurched upright, launching a giggling Luca into his lap, before his sleep-slowed brain remembered that he was at the Seventh Heaven. It was probably Denzel and Marlene in the hallway. It was a school day, and since Tifa was always up late working the bar, the kids normally got themselves ready. 

...which meant Cloud shouldn’t take Luca out there yet. He wanted to make sure Denzel was ready to meet the boy, and had time to process afterward. 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Cloud swung his legs over the side of the bed. Luca bounced down from his lap into the trundle bed, then turned to look up at Cloud. “Pancakes,” Luca said again. “Please?” 

“Yes,” Cloud said, “but not yet. Wait here, I need to talk to the people outside.” 

“Yessir,” Luca said. He flopped over backward with the bonelessness of a toddler, rolling under the blanket and burrowing into the pillow. 

Cloud got up and headed out into the hall, stopping in the bathroom long enough to hit the head and splash some water over his face. Then he made his way downstairs. 

He heard the kids before he spotted them, chattering animatedly about some school lesson. Rounding the corner into the bar proper, he found Marlene packing a pair of lunches and Denzel, who was old enough to be allowed to use the sharp knives, slicing bread into chunks to go in baskets for the night’s bar crowd. 

Marlene spotted him first. “Cloud!” she yelled, and dropped the apples she was packing to bolt across the room and slam into his stomach. Cloud barely managed to get her up onto one hip before Denzel crashed into him, too. 

Cloud picked Denzel up long enough to give them both a tight hug, then set them back on their feet. “Good to see you,” he told them.

“We missed you,” Marlene said. “Tifa said your bike got smashed by a dragon. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Cloud smiled and ruffled Marlene’s hair. “It’ll take more than a dragon to stop me.” 

“Did you kill it?” Denzel demanded, tugging on his arm. “What happened?” 

“Tifa said you were bringing another kid home,” Marlene added before Cloud could answer. “Where is he? Can we meet him?” 

“Later,” Cloud said, and shot a pointed glance at the clock on the wall over the door. “You don’t want to be late for school.” 

“Aww,” Marlene pouted.

Denzel, though, brightened immediately. “So you’re gonna stay for a while?” 

Cloud nodded. 

“Yeah!” Denzel cheered, and Marlene grinned. 

Cloud shooed them back to their tasks, though he followed them and helped Marlene by filling their thermoses, then packed Denzel’s sliced bread into towels ready to be unfolded into baskets. The kids waved to him as they left, and Cloud waved back until the door shut behind them. 

…It was all so _normal._ Cloud almost didn’t want to tell them about Luca - didn’t want to disrupt their easy joy, their lives that had finally settled into something nice. But there was no choice. If Cloud stayed, so did Luca, and Cloud wasn’t going to leave the kids and Tifa behind again. Not if he could help it. 

Shaking himself, Cloud headed back upstairs to find Luca sitting up in the trundle bed, humming atonally to himself and making inexplicable gestures with his hands. Imogen had assured Cloud that it was a totally normal thing for toddlers to do, especially if there weren’t any toys around for them to play with. The only remarkable thing, she’d said, was that unlike most babies, Luca never just grabbed and played with whatever he could reach. 

Cloud hadn’t told her it was probably because Hojo had harshly punished the boy for doing so. 

Luca looked up as Cloud entered the room. “Pancakes?” 

“You have a one-track mind,” Cloud told him, and held out a hand. 

Luca jumped out of bed and ran over to grab Cloud’s hand. “And strawberries,” he reminded him.

Cloud snorted. “Two-track.” 

Half an hour later, as Cloud scooped a generous dollop of whipped cream on top of a strawberry-laden pancake, Tifa staggered down the stairs and into the bar. Her hair was still braided for sleep, and she was wrapped in a tattered flannel bathrobe. “That smells heavenly,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed at Cloud. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Cloud jerked a thumb at Luca, who sat at one of the bar tables, perched on a twelve-pack of beer to be tall enough to reach the table and already digging into the pancake with a fork held carefully in both hands. “The woman we were boarding with east of Nibel made them once. I had to learn.”

Tifa chuckled. “I see that.” She took the plate Cloud handed her with the next pancake and piled her own toppings on, then sat next to Luca at the table. Cloud made a pancake for himself, though he skipped the strawberries and whipped cream, and slathered a thick layer of peanut butter on top instead. Tifa wrinkled her nose at it like she always did, and he made a show of taking a big, sticky bite like he always did. Luca giggled, and even if it was usually Denzel and Marlene laughing at them, still the whole thing felt so comfortably like _home_ that Cloud felt himself relaxing for the first time since he’d taken a delivery job to Nibelheim. 

* * *

“ _How_ many crates?” Cloud asked.

“Twelve,” Tifa said, and tapped the inventory list. “They’re really popular lately, and we’re almost out.” 

Cloud shook his head. “Gonna have to borrow a truck.” 

“Elias still owes you from last year,” Tifa suggested. 

Cloud grunted agreement and pulled the list out from under Tifa’s hand to study again. If he was going to borrow the truck, he could combine a few of these other runs and get the Seventh Heaven’s storeroom filled up that much quicker. While he read, Tifa leaned around him to check on Luca. 

The boy sat on the bar counter, meticulously building a complex tower out of a set of blocks Tifa had dug up from when Marlene was younger. He’d spent most of the day running around the bar acting out imaginary adventures under the tables, while the adults did the day’s prep work and discussed what Cloud needed to take care of first, now that he was back. Though the boy had finally burned off enough energy to sit still for a bit, he’d insisted on sitting where he could see Cloud. Given the setup of the bar and the impracticality of having the boy directly underfoot, on top of the counter it was. Thankfully, Luca seemed to understand that he wasn’t allowed to get close to the edges, and was staying comfortably put with his blocks. 

Cloud set the list down and drew a breath to ask Tifa about her new whiskey supplier when sounds from outside caught his attention: children’s voices giggling and shrieking. A moment later, the front door crashed open and Denzel tumbled inside with Marlene on his heels. 

“I won!” Denzel crowed, and did a little victory dance. 

“You _cheated_ ,” Marlene shot back. She stuck out her tongue at him, though she was grinning.

Denzel grinned back, clearly unbothered by the accusation. “Cloud,” he said, turning toward the counter, “did you see—”

His eyes landed on Luca, who had frozen in fear at the slam of the door and was staring at the kids with huge eyes. The words died on Denzel’s lips, and the smile faded from his face. In a sharp motion, he stepped forward, shoved Marlene behind him - and took a fighting stance, his fists raised threateningly.

“Denzel—!” Tifa exclaimed. 

At the same time, Luca made the little hiccupping noise that meant he was choking back a cry, and lunged for Cloud, heedless of the fact that there was a four-foot drop in the way. Cloud caught him and rubbed his back, trying to head off a panic meltdown, though he was still watching Denzel and Marlene. 

So he saw the look of hurt and betrayal that flashed over Denzel’s face. 

For a second, nobody moved. It was Tifa who broke the silence: “Denzel,” she said again, gently. “This isn’t the time for fighting.” 

Denzel threw her an incredulous glance before turning back to Luca and settling deeper into his martial arts stance. “He’s one of _them!_ ” 

“No, he’s not,” Tifa said, at the same time Cloud said, “He’s three.” Tifa shot Cloud a _shut up and let me handle this_ look. Cloud grimaced back, but shut up and resumed trying to soothe Luca. The boy clung to Cloud’s neck, shaking; Cloud didn’t know how much he understood but it was clearly enough for him to be terrified. 

Tifa moved out from behind the counter, her hands open at her sides, her voice steady and gentle. “Denzel, listen to me. He’s a baby. He’s not one of the men who hurt you.” 

“He looks like them,” Marlene piped up. She stuck her head out from behind Denzel’s shoulder and studied Luca with wide eyes. “You said those guys were Sephiroth caterpillars. What if _he’s—”_ with a jerk of her head toward Luca— “a Sephiroth caterpillar too?” 

_Hoo boy._ Cloud winced. He’d thought Marlene would be okay with Luca, or at least more so than Denzel, but clearly she’d been more affected by the Remnants than he’d realized. Worse, Luca clearly still recognized his old name, because he twisted in Cloud’s arms enough to stare at Marlene. He’d gone very still again, like he was trying to become invisible.

Cloud settled the boy more firmly in his arms. “He won’t be,” he said to Marlene. It was skating uncomfortably close to a lie - but then again, Cloud would do whatever it took to keep Luca from growing up into the Son of Calamity. “I won’t let him become Sephiroth.”

Marlene frowned, unconvinced. Tifa had reached Denzel by now, and put her hands on top of his fists, gently pushing them down. “Denzel,” she said. 

“He could, though,” Denzel said to Cloud. “He could become… one of _them.”_

Tifa shot Cloud a worried look. Cloud took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing thoughts. Luca, at least, was calming down, making it easier for Cloud to focus. _What would Imogen have said?_ Then a surge of grief and memory: _what would Ma have said?_

He’d been in the Nibel area too long. 

Taking one more breath, Cloud said to Denzel, “He was created the same way Sephiroth was. But Luca is three years old. The man who created Sephiroth is dead. Luca is going to grow up with us, and we’re going to help him grow up right.” 

Denzel’s face twisted and he pulled away from Tifa to glare at Cloud. “Those guys _hurt_ us,” he spat. “What if he does, too?” 

Cloud had his mouth open to point out, again, that Luca was _three._ Jenova augments or not, there wasn’t much he could do to hurt a seven-year-old and an eleven-year-old. But Luca beat him to it. 

“No hurting,” Luca said, in a firm voice with a distinct Nibel drawl. “Hurting isn’t nice. We don’t hurt people.” 

They all stared at the boy for a few seconds, even Cloud before memory caught up to him and he realized who Luca was parroting: Urte, the teenager who babysat the village children all day. Cloud said to Denzel, “See?” 

Denzel huffed and pulled away from Tifa, crossing his arms. “He’s lying. _They_ lied, too.” 

“Do you think Cloud is lying?” Tifa asked Denzel. 

Denzel opened his mouth, then hesitated. He looked from Tifa to Cloud, but looking at Cloud meant looking at Luca still tucked under Cloud’s chin, and Denzel’s scowl deepened. He ducked his head and stomped across the room to the stairs. His footsteps thudded against the wooden floor overhead, then his bedroom door slammed shut hard enough to knock dust from the rafters. 

Luca flinched at the noise, curling more tightly against Cloud. 

Tifa winced. “That… could have gone better.” 

“Why’d you bring him here?” Marlene asked. She’d been staring after Denzel, but now turned to Cloud. “Denzel has nightmares about _them_.”

Cloud sighed. Circling out from behind the bar, he handed the boy to Tifa, then crouched in front of Marlene so he was at her eye level. “I know he does,” Cloud admitted. “But it’s not safe for Luca to be anywhere but with me and Tifa.” 

“Because he’d turn into Sephiroth,” Marlene said, in a very small voice.

Cloud nodded.

Marlene thought about that for a minute, her button nose scrunching up and her head tilting. With that expression on her face, with her hair tied in a ponytail with a big pink ribbon, she looked enough like Aerith for the old grief to pulse behind Cloud’s ribs. Then she nodded once. “I’ll help,” she said to Cloud. “So he doesn’t turn into Sephiroth.” 

Another throb of grief, this one bittersweet. Marlene hadn’t spent much time with Aerith, but she was turning out just like her anyway. Cloud ruffled her hair and smiled. “Then he’ll be just fine.” 

* * *

Cloud knocked on the door of the children’s room. There was no response, though he could just make out a creak from the bed. 

Behind him, Marlene and Luca sat on the floor of the apartment’s main room; Marlene was showing Luca how to crunch up a packet of crackers before opening it over a bowl of soup. Downstairs, the hum of the bar was growing louder as patrons filed in, their voices rising over each other and the background radio music. Tifa’s voice rang out now and then as she greeted a regular or called out an order. If it had been Denzel out here in the main room instead of Luca, it would have been just like any other night three months ago. 

Cloud knocked on the bedroom door again, then when he continued to get no answer, opened the door anyway and stepped inside. When he closed it behind him, the bar noises faded to a distant hum, though Marlene and Luca’s high-pitched voices were still faintly audible. 

The lamp between the beds was turned off, as was the one on the desk; the only light in the room came from the streetlights through the windows. Denzel wasn’t visible, but there was a suspiciously boy-sized lump under the covers of his bed. Cloud crossed the room and sat down on the foot of the bed, careful not to tug too hard on the covers. He set the bowl of soup he’d been holding on the little bedside table, making sure the spoon clattered and the scent would waft toward the lump in the bed. 

It was still a couple of minutes before Denzel reluctantly burrowed out from under the blankets. He glared at Cloud, but grabbed the bowl of soup and hunched over it, sipping carefully and watching Cloud out of the corner of his eye. 

Cloud didn’t say anything, just waited, and Denzel’s patience ran out halfway through the bowl. Hunching his shoulders more tightly, he said, “Am I in trouble?” 

Cloud shook his head. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

Another headshake. 

Denzel looked down at the bowl of soup in his lap, biting his lip. In a very quiet voice, he said, “I don’t like him.” 

“I know,” Cloud said. “I didn’t, either.” 

Denzel’s head shot up and he stared at Cloud. 

Cloud focused his gaze out the window. He knew Tifa had told Denzel the gist of what had happened three years ago - how what started as a series of mercenary jobs for Avalanche had turned into a hunt for the newly-resurrected Sephiroth, how Sephiroth had killed Aerith and summoned Meteor and nearly destroyed the world. But none of them talked about what had happened to Cloud. 

“When I was only a little older than you,” Cloud said, “Sephiroth almost killed me. Shinra’s head scientist Hojo found me, and…” Breathe. “Experimented on me for four years. When Sephiroth came back, he used what Hojo did to hurt me. He…” The words lodged like Masamune in his chest and he shuddered. 

“You killed him for it, though,” Denzel said. “And you killed _them._ ” 

Cloud frowned at him. “Should I have killed a baby?” 

Denzel opened his mouth and closed it again, then looked down at his half-eaten soup. “No,” he muttered. 

“Should I have left him somewhere Shinra could have found him?” 

“...No,” Denzel said again. “But I don’t want him here.” 

“He scares me,” Cloud admitted, and Denzel looked up at him, startled. Cloud added, “Every time he looks at me, I see Sephiroth.” 

“I see _them_ ,” Denzel whispered, and shivered. 

Cloud gently tugged the soup bowl out of his hands and set it on the bedside table, then wrapped an arm around Denzel’s shoulders. “Luca won’t hurt you,” he said. “I won’t let him.” 

“Promise?” Denzel said.

Cloud nodded. “Promise.” 

“Okay,” Denzel said. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching and relaxing. “Okay,” he said again. “I guess he can stay.” 

* * *

The next morning, Cloud was already up and standing at the stove when Denzel and Marlene clattered downstairs to get ready for school. 

“Is that pancakes?” Denzel called eagerly as they rounded the corner into the bar. 

“Pancakes!” Luca answered from his seat on top of the twelve-pack at the table. 

Denzel flinched when he saw the boy, but glanced at Cloud and visibly forced himself to resume walking into the bar. Marlene waved at Luca and followed, then wrinkled her nose. “Something’s burning,” she said. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at Cloud, looking for all the world like a four-foot-tall Tifa. “Cloud, are you trying to make bacon?” 

Cloud rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t think it was that much harder than pancakes.” 

Denzel rolled his eyes at Cloud and pushed him away from the stove. “You can’t cook.”

“He cooks pancakes,” Luca called from the table.

Speaking of, Cloud reached over Denzel’s head to rescue the pancake turning golden on the grill next to the stove. Marlene ducked past him to scrape the burned remnants of Cloud’s attempt at bacon into the sink, then put the pan back on the stove while Denzel carved fresh strips off the big slab of bacon on the cutting board. The kids worked with practiced ease to get the bacon sizzling and add some eggs, while Cloud finished the pancakes.

By the time the smell of breakfast lured Tifa downstairs, the table was loaded with food. Denzel sat next to Cloud on the opposite side from Luca, stirring ketchup into his eggs and telling Cloud about the lesson his class was doing on the history of Junon. Marlene seemed to have appointed herself “elder sister”, sitting on Luca’s other side and showing him how to eat bacon. Tifa surveyed them all with a raised eyebrow. “Wow,” she said. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Cloud’s back!” Denzel said, in an “isn’t it obvious” tone.

“We haven’t all eaten together in _forever_ ,” Marlene added. 

“Pancakes!” Luca said, and waved his fork. 

Tifa laughed. “Well, I think those are all excellent reasons.” She took the last open seat between Denzel and Marlene and began loading up a plate. “Just promise me it wasn’t Cloud who made the bacon.” 

Denzel and Marlene looked at each other, looked at Cloud, and burst out laughing. 


End file.
